Stashes of Stuff
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Irony
Nicely forward I am; not ironically I must say…
Life as a Miracle: Mini
I’d never loved my Mini more, and I’d never loved it less.
Living Life as a Miracle: Mother Speaks Up
Ten years ago, days before my birthday, my mother suffered a stroke. It was an incident that brought me to church, a miraculous God-incidence that I have testified and written about. You can purchase the book on my website, pjcolando.com It’s a charity fundraiser, a huge part of who I am.
Ten years ago, days before my birthday, my mother suffered a stroke. It was an incident that brought me to church, a miraculous God-incidence that I have testified and written about. You can purchase the book on my website, pjcolando.com
Pride isn’t Power
For our 12th anniversary my husband gave me a significant ring.
He also made a significant promise: that we’d travel abroad at least once/year for the rest of our lives. We’d achieved his travel goal of seeing our magnificent 50 states first, adventures that we shared and enjoyed. I wanted to follow the life path that my parents had modeled, the world view that they had secured, reinforcing their wisdom that I adored.
Brows
I had a beauty make-over in the late 80s:
she added lipstick to ‘bring color to my face’, overriding the ’70s bare lips look
she insisted that I tweeze my eyebrows and
she suggested that I color my hair red
Life as a Miracle: Narelle and Ed
Our travel agent is a fortunate man because we usually bring our trips to him, so that he books appropriate air travel and the occasional side excursion, benefitting from the fees that our tour company pays to booking agents. He’s scored a free cruise and other bonuses and benefits.
He is also breezy, fast-talking, web-savvy, and world travel secure.
Water
Okay. I confess. We washed my car last week. In our driveway. At home.
Though it had been garaged for a month while we vacationed Down Under, my Mini Cooper was a pig. OK, a piglet. It is mini after all.
Boots
“These boots are made for walking…” but that’s not what they are going to do…
The Tall Poppy Syndrome
We’ve just returned from lands Down Under, where I’ve learned an apropos phrase: the Tall Poppy Syndrome. It’s applied to me nearly all my life. In one incident after another, for better or worse, mostly worst. I am more sensitive than people care to believe.
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